Star in My Eye
by h0pehoes
Summary: Arthur lived a comfortable life with his boyfriend,Francis. He had a comfortable job as a divorce lawyer and he was always welcomed home with the same love and stability from Francis. But things change on one faithful train ride encounter with an American who makes him question his whole life. Rated M for future chapters((hiatus))


I hate Sundays. Sunday is the day which was sandwiched between the impending doom of Monday but not the aftermath of the weekend. Sundays are usually the days where the youth wake from party filled nights,when someone you love had died the night before and you've been crying all night, Sundays are for waking up from the haze of what seemed like the past. For me, Sundays always meant the train ride back home from my job in the city. I always took the 5 o'clock train back to my lazy and comfortable home in the countryside. The train ride was my sort of release from the stressful work week, and way for me to relax and clear my mind.

Everything I did was in the same continuation pattern. I left my home on Monday then rode the train to my office in the city where I stayed at a hotel for the rest of the on Sunday I would go to the train station to only start the same routine again. I weaved my way around the bustle of the train station, bought my ticket, and boarded the train. I always chose the same seat near the rear where not many people sat. The ticket handler knew I was a regular and always asked me the same question; " How was your week Mr. Kirkland?". I was always gave him the same reply of my week being the same as the last. But something was strange about this Sunday. First off I almost missed the train because of some young man giving the ticket lady a hard time because he was rummaging through his backpack to find his money. The boy must have had not been in his early to mid 20's, probably a university student. He was fairly tall and tan so he must be a tourist from America. The boy had left my mind by the time I came up to the booth. Out of breath from trying to catch the train I slumped down in my usual seat and closed my eyes to regroup myself.

" Is anyone sitting here?"

I quickly opened my eyes to the face of the boy who I had an earlier meet with at the train station.

"No."

"Well...?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me to take a seat with you?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in disgust. The nerve of this boy to just insist that I should ask him to sit with me! I was about to tell him off when he had simply plopped down on the seat across from me. I was just about to give this boy a piece of my mind before he interrupted me.

" Wow mister, you've got some eyebrows on you!"

" Why I never! Who said you could sit with me in the first place?! Also you have no right to talk about my eyebrows four eyes!" I was practically boiling with anger as I spat out all the pent-up anger. I must have him with my remark about his glasses because he had went silent. I sat back and crossed my arms in triumph. Shows him right to mess with me. As we sat there in an uncomfortable silence tears began to well up in his eyes. Had I badly insulted him? Before I could even apologize he began to burst out into a fit of laughter. His laugh was deep and breathy, something very and childish and contagious to it. After a while I found myself joining him and we both fell over the seats with laughter. I hadn't noticed but our laughing was the only thing that made a sound on the late evening train. We must have been the only two people in this part of the cart.

" Oh man! You got me with that comeback!" Removing his thin rectangle framed glasses to wipe a tear from his eye I had noticed how blue his eyes were. I wouldn't be able to describe them because it seemed like a different color. This kind of blue wasn't like the everyday blue people see in life. It wasn't the color blue like the sky, or the ocean, nor was it the color blue like it would be in any old generic flower. His eyes were electric blue with something whimsical and youthful behind them with a hint of magic.

" Hey dude? Are you okay?" His voice had spanned me out of my trance and tossed me back into reality.

" Sorry." I sheepishly said.

" No problem! Oh! I haven't introduced myself yet have I? The name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."Surprisingly the name had seemed to fit him perfectly. It sounded like an American hero name like a cowboy or a valiant soldier that fought during a war and came home to the fan fare of earning medals.

" Nice to meet you Mr. Jones. My name is Arthur Kirkland."

" Like King Arthur"

I rolled my eyes. " Sort of."

"Wow I just met me a real life British person! Accent and all. Do you drink tea at noon?"

I clicked my teeth. What I loathed the most was to meet a tourist and have them ask me arbitrary questions about the stereotype of English people. I was living my nightmare now.

" Yes I enjoy a nice cup of tea from time to time and no I do not drink it at noon."

" Well that's a satisfactory answer."

The conversation had ended and we both sat in anticipation of the other to ask more questions just to talk about something. The emptiness of the cart and the slowly setting sun had became unbearable.

"I get off right here." The train came to a sputtering halt as we arrived at the station. I collected my trench coat and briefcase.

" It was nice meeting you Mr. Jones." Alfred stood up to shake my hand. I had noticed that he was a head taller than me and my forehead was close to his tan neck. He chest was close to mine and I could smell the Ralph Lauren cologne gentle lingering to his shirt. He had fine taste for a man who only dressed in a white v neck and slightly baggy blue jeans. We shook hands, his big and rough and mine, slender and delicate. I walked away as his fingers trailed my fingertips, soon the connection to break as I left.

I decided to walk home from the station instead of calling my boyfriend to pick me up. It was fairly warm still for it to be an early autumn evening. My hand still tingled with the electric feel of Alfred's on mine. Why had we lingered so long? After that moment I only looked forward to by chance of seeing him again in some freak accident. The world works like that doesn't it? Maybe he lived in the city that I worked in, but maybe he was leaving. So many questions about him flooded my head but I soon shook them out of my mind as I rounded the corner to my apartment building.

I lived not so far from the city. There were a few houses and apartment buildings and a few shops near town square. My community was pretty close-knit, everyone knew everyone else. I searched the pockets of my coat to find my keys and went inside my apartment. It was small, only consisting of two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. I walked into the living room setting my things down on the couch and hanging my coat on the coat hanger. From the kitchen I could smell the fragrance of coq au vin. The melody of onion, red wine, and white mushrooms reminded me of the time my boyfriend took me to his native country of France for our fifth anniversary. I walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table flipping through a French magazine while the stew simmered on the stove.

"Ah! Arthur you had me worried when you didn't call!"

" Sorry Francis, I decided to take a walk and get some exercise."

Francis chuckled. " You have gotten a little portly if I may say."

" You frog! It's because you've been going through your Julia Child moment. You don't always have to cook." I opened the cabinet above the stove to retrieve one of the many wine glasses we have. Francis went back to reading his magazine as I got a bottle of red wine from the bottom cabinet. While I was fixing my glass I felt hands wrap around my waist. Francis rested his chin on top of my head.

"Mon amour, you know I would always love you even if you got fat and ugly."

" Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Francis lightly planted a kiss on the top of my head. Sometimes we could argue over the most stupid things and then Francis would sweep me away with his French charm and everything would be alright.

We sat down from each other and enjoyed our meal in silence except for the small talk about work and friends. That's how our relationship was, it was comfortable and static. We always did the same thing every evening, said the same things, the same routine. I wasn't bored at all though. With Francis there was always the welcome to a nice meal on the table and someone to keep me company. I never really asked him about how he felt when I would leave for work. It never seemed to bother him. Sometimes, on a quiet Saturday when I am at home, Francis would have this look in his eyes of longing. Maybe it was a longing to go back home? I remember that before we met he used to lead an exciting life until he came to England with me to play the role of my partner. I asked him once did he ever think about going home but he only replied in a dreamy voice with something in French that I didn't understand. We never really asked or spoke much on our feelings. That was our relationship.

Night time was drawing near, and after both of our showers we cuddled closely together. I curled tightly into Francis's chest closed my eyes. I knew when Francis was sleep because his arm that draped around me relaxed and his breathing became shallow. I turned onto my side and stared into the green light coming off from my digital alarm clock. For a split second I let my mind drift to Alfred. I had wanted to meet him again. Something about him was different from my everyday life and I thought that maybe he could show me a new life. I bawled up the covers in fist and squeezed my eyes shut. I shouldn't think of Alfred like that when I had Francis right beside me. But what if I hadn't been in a relationship with Francis, what if, maybe just maybe I could be laying next to Alfred? I shook my head and drifted off into a question filled slumber. That kind of thinking was for the unfaithful and to my understanding Francis and I had promised to stay faithful and truthful to each other. I just couldn't be truthful about my feelings towards Alfred.


End file.
